


The End

by chaoticamanda



Category: SPN, Supernatural
Genre: Death, Depression, Gen, M/M, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-22
Updated: 2013-09-22
Packaged: 2017-12-27 06:44:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/975690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaoticamanda/pseuds/chaoticamanda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You're not hungry, Dean, because inside, you're already...dead." </p><p>Dean can't do it anymore. This is the end of the road.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The End

Dean stood motionless in the middle of the small family room of the large house he'd broken into. It had long since been abandoned; dust layering every almost every surface in sight. The floral wallpaper was peeling and the once bright white paint on the arch connecting the rooms to each other was chipped. Nothing here was alive; everything a ghost of the past. Even Dean Winchester, who fit in so perfectly with this house that if you were to walk in you might not even notice him at first. 

He raised yet another bottle to his lips and chugged until the liquor was dripping from his mouth. A square mirror framed with dirty metal hung across from him. It too was cracked and damaged, but for the most part intact. Dean met his reflection's eyes and his fingers curled in on themselves as he saw everything he hated. For a moment he was empty, rotting on the inside; and then he was so angry. It tore through him and tensed every muscle in his body. 

With a feral snarl he whipped the bottle at the mirror, causing it to splinter and crack in on itself. In the seconds he had, he did not throw up his hands to protect his face from the small eruption of liquor and glass. His breath came from him in large puffs as he dropped to his knees. 

Dean Winchester, the man who stopped the apocalypse, was broken. There was no doubt about that. Despite how fractured his soul was, Dean had never been this angry, never been this reckless. Sure, there were times when he got real low, but never this low. 

There were so many things wrong and so many people to blame for it. Only in rare moments like these did he let himself acknowledge that the blame was not entirely on him. He was not stupid. John for making him the perfect little soldier, Bobby for leaving, Sam for hating him, Cas for bringing him into all of this; the list of people to blame was endless but really, the blame was all on Dean.  
Dean never should have gone to Stanford to get Sam. Sam could've lived a happy life, could've been away from all this chaos. Going to fetch Sam to find their dad had been the mistake of all mistakes. That moment had set everything in motion. 

Sam was gone now. He'd gotten angsty and moody, his hatred for Dean bubbling up and over. The way Sammy looked at him, the dislike and disgust shelved behind his eyes, were what let Dean know continuously that he was worse than the monsters they killed. It seemed that Dean had messed up something for everyone at some point. Jo, Ellen, Bobby, fuck, even Sam, would not have died had it not been for Dean.  
The man's gun rose shakily to his temple; cool barrel resting against the dirty skin. Dean smiled for the first time in a long time, leaning into the cool metal. It was going to end. After everything; all the demons, the angels, the monsters...Dean Winchester was finally going to die. Dying was the right thing to do; what should've happened all along. 

A larger piece of mirror fragment reflected the scene, showing a broken man with his salvation in the palm of his hand. Or maybe Dean's salvation was found in the man behind him.  
"Hello, Dean." The soft flutter of wings should have alerted him, but Dean was too immersed in sadness to care. The only thing that seemed to move in the room were his shaking hands.  
"C-as," Dean choked, swallowing hard. 

"What are you doing, Dean?" It was quite obvious what Dean was doing, was going to do. Cas could tell himself that he’d never seen this coming, but then he’d be lying. Countless times Castiel has witnessed the frown that would disgrace Dean’s face for mere seconds before he stashed the emotion inside again. One look into Dean’s eyes and Cas could see all the hatred and rotting thoughts. 

“Finding some goddamn peace,” Dean’s eyes did not open, but he cracked a slight smirk. This was what he did best, was it not? Pretend everything’s alright and make some jokes, when really everything inside is breaking.

“It seems that you have come to the conclusion that death is peace.” Cas cocked his head to the side. “You of all people know that Hell is no pleasure, Dean.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Cas.” Dean let out a bitter laugh, but his heart sank. 

“Oh...I didn’t mean to…” Cas trailed off, looking about the room awkwardly. “Sam would never let you do this.”

A thousand memories of Sam ran through Dean’s mind, but the only ones that stuck were the ones that hurt the most. Sammy leaving for Stanford. Sam working behind his back with Ruby. Sam living and not telling Dean. “Cas…” The name was only a breath, but Cas still heard. Castiel did not want anything that had to do with Dean being dead. He put his hand on Dean’s shoulder, and the man opened his eyes. Dean had made up his mind, and there would be no stopping it. “Promise me something Cas.”

“What is it, Dean?” Castiel could feel the warmth radiating from Dean and he briefly wondered if now would be a time to give the broken man a hug.

“Promise me,” Dean swallowed, the weight of what he would be asking pushing his gut down. He’d never been more sure of anything, never been this resolved. “Promise me that you won’t bring me back.” 

“Dean…” Cas shook his head, but Dean stood and turned to him. The angel’s eyes searched Dean’s face, confused and torn. 

“Cas, please. Let me...let me escape all this pain. I can’t do it anymore,” He was desperate, practically pleading with his best friend. “You’ll all be better off without me.”

“That is not true.” Castiel’s eyebrows furrowed and Dean looked up to the ceiling for help. Of course, it provided no answers. 

“Son of a bitch,” his voice was soft and he felt his heart pounding in his chest, warmth behind his eyes. He blinked away his tears and whispered in a broken voice, “I need you to do this for me, Castiel.”

Cas gave a start at the sound of his full name. Dean had hardly ever said it, not even on special occasions. Reluctantly, he nodded. “Okay...okay, Dean.” 

Dean smiled again, raising the gun slowly. “It’s all going to be okay.” Cas screwed his eyes shut, feeling sick for the first time in his life. How could he let this happen? “Oh, and Cas-” Castiel opened his eyes just in time to see Dean’s eyes as he leaned in to kiss his lips. Before Cas could register what was happening, the shot of a gun rang around him and Dean fell away from his lips. 

“Dean!” His shout was too late and his eyes dropped to the floor, where a still smiling Dean lay. Dean was too still, too inanimate, blood pooling beneath his corpse. Dropping to his knees, Cas laid a hand of Dean’s back. Why had Castiel failed so badly? How could he have never fixed Dean the way he really needed to be fixed? Now it was too late and Cas had never regretted making a promise more. 

Cas removed Dean’s cellphone from his pocket and dialed the emergency number, placing it next to him. Closing his eyes again, he leaned into Dean’s lifeless body, inhaling the scent of the eldest Winchester brother. “I’m so sorry, Dean.”

With a flutter of wings the angel disappeared, leaving the dead body in the dead house where it fit so perfectly. No one would ever know how the story of Dean Winchester was supposed to end, only that it ended here.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I suck at endings, sorry. Leaving a kudos or comment will make me very happy, so don't be afraid to.


End file.
